[She blushes, color rising in her cheeks at being comforted as much at his foul language—perhaps it is presumptuous to even consider that she could upset him at all, but the look on his face was so troubling...
Not that it is her place to delve into his private matters, to dig into his past and uncover his buried memories, bitter or otherwise. He has a wife, after all, and who is she but just another party guest, some woman he has decided to speak with, just to pass the time? She knows little about him, just as he should know as little about her. They're little more than lukewarm strangers, acquaintances who pass in the night and cross paths, and she has no reason to fret over his frown, or—or to feel reassured by the sight of his smile.
She forces herself to laugh, then, a strange mixture of gin-induced giggles and the attempt to smother the lump of tears in her throat. Aren't they both a couple of wrecks? Her with her husband, him without his wife, both trying not to upset the other and making a regular disaster of the whole evening! It's almost funny, the whole business, in a morbid sort of way.]
Mr. Darmody—
[She struggles for a moment, grasping for the right words, how to assure him that she isn't in need of assuring, that she never meant to insult him, that he is a perfectly fine man and she never meant to imply he is in need of a woman—
Instead, she gives the most brilliant smile, her eyes damp and swallowing down everything she could never hope to say.]
no subject
Not that it is her place to delve into his private matters, to dig into his past and uncover his buried memories, bitter or otherwise. He has a wife, after all, and who is she but just another party guest, some woman he has decided to speak with, just to pass the time? She knows little about him, just as he should know as little about her. They're little more than lukewarm strangers, acquaintances who pass in the night and cross paths, and she has no reason to fret over his frown, or—or to feel reassured by the sight of his smile.
She forces herself to laugh, then, a strange mixture of gin-induced giggles and the attempt to smother the lump of tears in her throat. Aren't they both a couple of wrecks? Her with her husband, him without his wife, both trying not to upset the other and making a regular disaster of the whole evening! It's almost funny, the whole business, in a morbid sort of way.]
Mr. Darmody—
[She struggles for a moment, grasping for the right words, how to assure him that she isn't in need of assuring, that she never meant to insult him, that he is a perfectly fine man and she never meant to imply he is in need of a woman—
Instead, she gives the most brilliant smile, her eyes damp and swallowing down everything she could never hope to say.]
Call me Daisy. I absolutely insist.